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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26026498">The History Incident</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/twentyfourshreds/pseuds/twentyfourshreds'>twentyfourshreds</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rick and Morty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anxiety, Desperation, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Piss, Trauma, i didn't mean to make it deep pls, i guess, im so sorry, look its just a piece of writing about a kid pissing his pants, pre S3:E3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:33:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,863</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26026498</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/twentyfourshreds/pseuds/twentyfourshreds</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This is what probably happened to incite the family visit to Dr Wong.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The History Incident</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote this two years ago.<br/>I was exploring some shit at the time, and frankly, in four years, I am appalled at the internet's cowardice.<br/>Enjoy, I guess...</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was the second to last period of the day. His leg was jittering so fast that he was sure the other students could feel the vibrations through the floor. He was beginning to panic. </p>
<p>He remembered this morning rushing out of bed with just five minutes to get to the bus, his mind numbly aware of his need to relieve himself, he didn't even stop for breakfast on the way out of the door. As he dashed to the stop, he realised his mistake, knowing wholeheartedly that it probably spelled his doom later on that day, he'd just have to drink literally nothing all day, and his dry mouth grew drier in protest.</p>
<p>He was fine for the most of the morning, only getting a true urge when his gym period came into play, his body begging politely for him to empty his bladder, but his mind refused, anxiety and memories flooding his limbs with cold, and the urge soon passed. He was thankful that the American Highschool system was intent on making kids sit for hours on end. He had made it through lunch, study hall, and English, but then history came.</p>
<p>His most boring subject, besides math. With boredom came opportunity, the full and total opportunity to focus solely on his burgeoning need to relieve himself. He began to bounce his leg, it was subtle at first, but thirty minutes had passed and he had thirty more to go, he didn't think he could do it. A small voice in the back of his head nudged the idea that he knew he couldn't make it home. He had drunk a can of soda during lunch, he was royally fucked. He felt his face heat up at the thought, nothing was worse than this: needing to pee, but not able to. He thought, just maybe he'd chance the public restroom, but it failed once more as thoughts of before sent waves of nausea into his stomach. He tried to read the passage in the book, the quiet rustle of papers was so quiet it seemed loud.</p>
<p>Out of nowhere his muscles cramped, he took a sharp inhale, straightening his spine slightly, and slowing the motion of his leg. This was never good.</p>
<p>He shifted side to side, trying to stop everything all at once. The sensation was becoming bordering overload. He tried to breathe but he felt that press his weight over his bladder and he held his breath. The cramp subsided and he cautiously moved his book bag out from underneath himself, gingerly bending from one side to pick it up. He set it down in front of his desk.</p>
<p>He knew the inevitable. He wasn't going to make it home, so he might as well prepare for a disaster. He was thankful for the last row in the back of the classroom where no one cared or dared to care about his existence.</p>
<p>He felt his muscles cramp once more and he gripped his pen tightly he tried to breathe once more but it was a fruitless effort. A low groan pressed against his throat and he willed himself to stay quiet. His face grew redder as his muscles spasmed, and he felt the slight trickle of urine pass into his underwear. He was fucked.</p>
<p>He laid his forehead down against the open textbook on the desk and winced as his weight shifted, pressing over his bladder a little further, another drip pushed its way through his urethra, the euphoric shudder ghosted up his lower back. And he shifted once more, this time side to side, rocking his hips as if to cradle his yearning bladder back into obedience.</p>
<p>It only exacerbated the problem and he grit his teeth as he glanced at the clock. It had only been six minutes. He groaned internally, wishing that he'd just get over the damn anxiety. But he knew he wouldn't even make to the bathrooms in time by this point. If he could have moved he'd be punching himself in the face, but as it stood he just wedged his hands between his thighs hoping that it looked like his fingers were cold and not that he was both checking his pants' status and attempting to hold himself. </p>
<p>His muscles cramped for just a moment, and then spasmed rapidly, he screwed his eyes shut as he felt much more than a few drops wet his jeans. He felt redder than the suns on Rerian-6, and he didn't know if he'd cry or groan from the embarrassment.</p>
<p>He was trying his damnedest to not make a mess, prolonging the pain and the embarrassment, but he also didn't want to sit in a puddle of cold piss for-- he checked the clock on the wall-- twenty minutes. He felt tears rise as the thought about how much longer he'd have to wait. He promised himself that ten minutes before class ended he'd be just fine to let go.</p>
<p>As if on queue his bladder gave a strange shudder and he gripped the crotch of his jeans as he felt a soft trickle slide out of his tip. That damn euphoric feeling warmed it's way up and into his stomach. He really began to hate anatomy; everything just had to come out of the same tubing.</p>
<p>He could feel the damp beginning to leak through his jeans and he regretted so much. He tried shifting his hips, hoping the rocking would confuse his body. He could nearly feel the urine slosh in his bladder as he did so. His heart raced as more trickled through his jeans, and he looked at the clock: seven minutes to go, he could do it.</p>
<p>Another groan pressed against his throat as a wave of much-too-late urgency washed over his mind. His muscles spasmed letting too much pass and this time he felt the seat of his jeans grow damp. In turn, his blush burned over his ears and neck. There was no going back now, but his socially orientated mind was so adverse to letting go that he felt another cramp coil around his bladder. He pressed his head further into his textbook, feeling the frustration and humiliation rise inside of him. He should just be able to relax, piss himself, and take the consequences. He didn't have enough digits to count on of similar instances he had gone through with Rick, and he lightly entertained the idea of having an internalised scenario, something like 'Rick needed his urine to kick-start the engine of some spacecraft,' or 'Rick was pissed that he didn't use the bathroom at the station and now the two had to suffer for it.'</p>
<p>If he could've laughed he definitely would have, but as it stood, he was jolted back to the present by an all-consuming pang. Everything hurt and he tried to breathe through his nose to stop the whine bubbling up through his chest. Oh, he was fucked to the nth degree.</p>
<p>Without warning, his bladder gave him one last shuddering, fuck-you spasm and the gates were opened. Waves of euphoria washed over him as his bladder gave out, urine quickly puddling in the cupped seat, his jeans slowly turning dark blue. It was warm and wet and frankly really gross. </p>
<p>He looked at the clock as he felt his urine run down his legs and into his socks, he failed to reach ten minutes before the end of class, he now waited at fifteen minutes. He considered texting Rick to portal him out of there, but he knew he'd never hear the end of it.</p>
<p>His mind turned back to the urine leaking out of his body, he could just about feel the end of the stream, the euphoric waves slowing to an uncomfortably growing hard line. His eyes grew wide as he realised what was apt to occur. His hands, now thoroughly wet and growing cold slipped out from between his thighs and pressed the heels of his hands down just to make sure no further embarrassment would come to fruition. The euphoria soon ebbed with the flow, and only just slightly did he shudder as the last few and almost painful rivulets pass into his soaked underwear. He sighed as quietly as possible, knowing that it couldn't get any worse than this. The tension that had built up in his body was entirely absent. He was a cloud of weary emptiness, but he was strangely relaxed. </p>
<p>He then decided to check the damage. Lifting his head off the desk, he kept it hung, staring bemusedly at the state his jeans, the plastic seat, and the linoleum floor were in.  The only thing that came to his mind was a question: <i>Why was there so much?</i> He blinked slowly and laid his head back down on the desk. He was tired and disappointed. </p>
<p>He wished to get over his fear. Maybe he would ask Rick about making something to forget about what happened, but he remembered how tightly Rick's hand dug into his shoulder as Rick whipped around, gun in hand. "Keep looking at the shelves," he heard him say, Rick's tone foreign and distant as he tried to catch his breath. The adrenaline and terror clouding Morty's mind, and it was just a few seconds later that the green light faded away. Rick had dropped the gun, the other hand now steering him to the living room and pushing him to sit on the couch. He obeyed, shaken and confused at Rick's reaction. Rick sank into the couch cushions at a comfortable distance and turned on the television. A mindless reality show quietly ran across the screen. It was a long while before Rick spoke.</p>
<p>"Don't worry about that anymore. You have trouble with anything about it or-- god forbid-- some shit similar just get ahold of me, I don't care how, I don't care when just make it as soon as possible. Monsters like that need to die."</p>
<p>Lost in his memories, he was brought back to class when the teacher began prodding him with a pen, the line was stretched across the room as they talked on the phone to his mother. <i>His mother?</i> He snapped his head up and realised the empty room, the class must have ended, and he never noticed. If he hadn't been beet red he was now, the repercussions finally weighing down on him. The bottom half of his body soaked in his own cold piss, the look of mild disgust and confusion in the teacher's face, the dread of his mother's questioning, pressed down on his mind. He was left in a quiet haze as he was taken out of the class, his mother brought him spare clothing, and was called to a meeting with Principal Vagina.</p>
<p>"Look, I think you three should visit a lovely woman named Dr Wong. She's a family counsellor, and with the recent developments with Summer and Morty Smith, I believe that talking about it would help," he rambled. Morty focused solely on the shining baldness of his forehead, watching the light play off his greasy skin.</p>
<p>Family therapy, it should go just fine, right?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading.</p>
<p>I congratulate you on your bravery.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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